Fia enjoys napping in her box, playing with all the dangly things, rolling around in an empty bathtub and trying to trick us into feeding her four times a day. She does not like the doorbell or food without gravy.
I’ve always owned black cats. There’s something about their personalities and sleekness that’s irresistible. With her wonky eye and playful spirit, Fia, aka Fatty Fat Fat, aka Fuzzy Butt, had my heart on day one. Any worries about Mr. Man and a new cat evaporated the minute I brought her home. He treats her like one of the family and he is the only one she lets pick her up. Fia is his new baby and I’m all for it.
Having a new furry friend in the house has done wonders for my depression. I didn’t learn how animals affected one’s depression until having to re-home Babs with a friend. It was a traumatic separation and threw me further down an already deep rabbit hole. Suddenly, the fragile wall keeping the darkest, ugliest thoughts at bay was shattered.
It was hard to explain to others and saying “I want to kill myself because my cat is gone” out loud sounded beyond stupid. My therapist understood and that’s when we started talking about medication. It took me a while to get comfortable with the idea. I didn’t want to be one of those people. Therapy was enough, wasn’t it? Nope. Nine months after moving Babs to my friend’s place, I started Zoloft.
Fast forward a few years. With a new cat in the family, I’m feeling less of a need for meds. Nose to nose kisses and afternoon playtime has done wonders. Could it be time to say goodbye to the little yellow pill? It’s too early to tell, but 2017 might be the year. Or not. I’m not stressing because Fia is snoring and it is the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard.